Desperation
by Yukann
Summary: Summary: The war had been going on for years now, Voldemort had taken over almost all of Magical Britain while the resistance has all but been destroyed, with only a few stragglers left. Harry Potter, in an act of desperation, used an ancient summoning ritual to get help. A blond man wasn't what he expected.


Desperation:

C01:

Summary: The war had been going on for years now, Voldemort had taken over almost all of Magical Britain while the resistance has all but been destroyed, with only a few stragglers left. Harry Potter, in an act of desperation, used an ancient summoning ritual to get help. A blond man wasn't what he was expecting.

Disclaimer: I don't own FFVII or HP. They belong to their respective owners.

A/N: Yea, this plot bunny wouldn't leave me alone so I had to write it and post it. Enjoy~

C01: Ritual

The war had been dragging on for seven years now and all Harry wanted to do was rest, but that would mean giving up, and he would not give Voldemort that satisfaction, not when so many people had already been sacrificed.

So, he continued on, hoping on hope that this war would end someday.

Harry had just finished brewing some Skele-grow when his remaining best friend, Hermione, suddenly yelled in glee, "I've found it! Oh thank Merlin!"

Harry, bewildered, turned to look at her, his wand instinctively in his hand.

"Found what 'Mione?"

He wanted to know what could have made his friend so happy, even after Ron's death three months ago.

"I've found a way to help us!" She yelled, waving the book, Rituals of Old, around wildly, bushy hair bouncing.

Harry's eyes widened as he registered what she said. A way to finally end this war for good?

"What do we have to do?"

Consequences be damned! Harry couldn't care less; he just wanted the goddamned fighting to end.  
Hermione looked up, saw the determined glint in his eyes and gave a nod.

"First, we have to…"

-0-

Day by day, Cloud got by with the barest edge of his sanity. His mind was slowly being destroyed by the memories that were in his brain and he was unable to tell which was whose. He was slowly going insane.

Cloud was on a delivery right now, riding his bike, pushing it to go as fast as possible, to feel the thrill, the adrenaline as he felt the wind rushing by. This was the only thing that could ground him to reality, not lost in his own world.

Suddenly, the blond felt a pulling sensation in his navel. It grew stronger, tugging his stomach area.

Cloud panicked, hurriedly stopping his bike and proceeding to grope his naval.

What was happening?

A sudden flash of bright, white light encompassed his whole being, blinding his sensitive Mako eyes. Cloud felt the pull becoming a harsh tug that dragged him through what felt like a tube before dumping him unceremoniously on the ground. He groaned, muscles he didn't know he had aching.

When the blond opened his eyes, he was confronted with wide, terrified emerald eyes that belonged to a messy black-haired youth, looking to be in around his early twenties.

Then, his vision suddenly went black and he passed out.

-0-

Harry bit his lip in nervousness. Hermione had warned him of the danger, that this ritual could kill him. However, even a slight chance to defeat Voldemort must be taken.

To save his loved ones, Harry would go to Hell and back. He took a deep breath to steady himself before beginning the chant.

The circle, drawn in his blood, along with the sigils on the floor, started glowing. Harry felt a slight relief. Everything was going according to plan. So far.

Finally reaching the last few lines of the spell, he felt his magic being drained alarmingly fast, as if someone had attached a tap to his reserves and turned it on. The teen wanted to stop but Hermione had said that if he did it halfway, the results would be disastrous.

The emerald-eyed man didn't want to take that chance. So, he continued.

When he finally finished, he was standing from sheer willpower alone. The glowing had changed to blinding light now and suddenly, a loud boom echoed around the basement where the ritual was being held.

Harry was pushed back and smoke was coiling around the room in a thick curtain. A dark, blurry silhouette could be seen at where the centre of the circle should be.

The wizard, although wary, had his curiosity burning. So, he walked, more of limped, forward to investigate. What met his sight wasn't what quite he expected.

A blond man looking the same age as him didn't really strike him as something that could help him against the war with Voldemort.

Suddenly the man stirred. Panic started to set in. He could be a spy sent from Voldemort!

A groan.

Then, glazed blue eyes fluttered open. Harry opened his mouth to say something, but the man had fallen back into unconsciousness.

-0-

Cloud felt his consciousness returning. He groaned, eyes squinting slightly as he woke. The blond glanced around the room he was in, taking in every detail from the small table to the cupboard and the door at the far end of the room. The bed he was in was quite large, enough to fit in at least three people.

The door opened without warning, revealing a black-haired man carrying a tray of things. Cloud, with the reflexes borne of having to be able to react fast enough or be killed, tried to get up, only to feel a sudden sense of dizziness and fall back onto the bed, exhausted.

The man with the tray saw what he was trying to do and hurried over, slight concern etched on his face. The tray was dumped onto the bedside table and the black-haired youth went to help him up. Cloud grimaced as he felt calloused hands on his back and shoulder; he loathed feeling helpless and with his current state, that was exactly how he felt.

"Here, let me help you up."

Careful, gentle hands grasped his right shoulder and left hand, and surprising strength lifted him up. Pillows were placed generously at his back to help facilitate comfort.

A steaming pile of food, freshly cooked from the looks of it, was placed onto his blanket-covered legs.

"I thought you'd be hungry. So I brought you some food. It's not poisoned, I promise."

The accent, Cloud just noticed, was a type he'd never heard before, and before he could stop himself, he blurted out, "Where am I?"

The green-eyed man widened his eyes and his back stiffened for a moment before settling back down.  
A solemn look passed over his face.

"Welcome to number twelve Grimmauld Place, London. I, no we, need your help."


End file.
